The Ballad of the Unbroken Circle
by writer writing
Summary: Sister Ruth receives a letter that her father is dying, and she with Kid Cole and their children travel to see him. They work hard to fulfill his dying wish, to see his hermit, shotgun-wielding brother come to know Christ. AU. 1847. Eighteenth in a series.
1. Chapter 1

It was no fun getting old. In fact, it was completely disagreeable. Joints ached, the body rebelled, and you just couldn't remember where you laid your glasses, or in Sister Ruth's case, her Bible. But the worst part of getting old was looking around and realizing how few of your loved ones were actually left.

She made friends easily enough though. Some would've argued too easily for a woman of her advanced years traveling alone. It came naturally when you saw people as your sisters and brothers and not strangers with dark intentions. And she knew who her Protector was. He was also her Friend, her Father, her Comforter, her Traveling Companion.

But when the road stretched in front of you for miles and the only voices you could hear were the sounds of the whip-poor-wills, that was when the loneliness and age were most sharply felt. And that was when she cried out to the Lord for a helpmeet.

But how silly was it to think He would send a husband her way now after all this time? Especially when she was long past childbearing years and when she wasn't the type who could be content to stay at home. Very silly. Nonetheless, it was still the cry of her heart.

 _January 1847_

Sister Ruth struggled not to crumple the paper in her hands because her hands grew tight with emotion. She read over the lines in the letter for a second time.

 _Your daddy is feeling poorly. He asks about you daily, wondering if you ever plan to visit. Ruth, I really hope that you will._

Her head pounded, not just from her three children who played loudly in the back of the room but from the shock of the letter.

"What's the matter? Bad news?" Kid asked, his tone laced in concern. He knew she was reading a letter from her mother.

Her mother had never asked her to come home before. It was a plan Ruth had carried in the back of her mind to take the children to meet their grandparents one day. But her mother's mild words told her all she needed to know, her father wasn't long for this world. "Daddy's dying." It became even more real said out loud.

He took the letter from her to read it for himself, which was a mercy as the words were beginning to swim before her eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked. "She only says he's feeling poorly."

"I know my momma. She has a tendency to understate, but the fact that she's asking us to visit says it plain as day."

He stood her up, so he could bring her into a comforting embrace. "I'm so sorry, darling."

Leaning on the solidness of his chest, the tears that had been threatening to fall did. The thought of her father lying in a bed on the other side of the continent asking for her was more than she could bear.

The children got silent, and she could hear her soft cries, muffled against Kid's shirt. She didn't want to scare them. She did her best imitation of a laugh as she pulled away. "I'm getting your shirt all soggy. It's a good thing black hides wet spots so good."

"Don't worry about my shirt," he said, his deep, velvety voice thick with caring. "And don't forget sick men can get well again; you know that about as well as anybody. You going to be okay if I leave for a few minutes?"

She wiped her eyes. "Of course. Where are you going?"

"Down to the docks to book the quickest passage to Virginia," he said already halfway out the door.

Gratefulness flooded her that Kid had the presence of mind to arrange that. Maybe it wasn't too late. She'd come to Yerba Buena with a full set of parents. Now she was leaving San Francisco, as it had recently been renamed, possibly fatherless.

No, not fatherless, she thought, glancing upward, and she prayed silently, "Oh Lord, don't let my daddy die. Let us get there in time."


	2. Chapter 2

As they tromped up the side of a steep hill, Kid remembered his first time up it with a gun pressed into his back. Wooing James McKenzie had been harder in some ways than wooing Ruth, but they'd come to an understanding, even a friendship. He mourned with his wife though they weren't sure yet that there was anything to mourn over.

Mary McKenzie's eyes lit up like fireflies when she opened the door. She probably hadn't expected them to come. "You made it," she exclaimed, hugging Ruth first.

He watched the tension melt from Ruth's body at knowing her father was still alive. "Oh, Momma, how I've missed you."

Mary hugged her grandchildren next from oldest to youngest, and he was proud to see Isaiah didn't pull away from her despite his aversion to touch.

He was hugged by the short, petite woman last of all, but she was happy to see him. "It's so nice to see you again, Kid."

"Likewise, Mother Mary. It's been too long," he said, feeling just as warmly toward her.

"Your father would never forgive me if I don't send ya'll back to see him right away. He's in bed."

Ruth started that way at once, but Mary's hushed tones stopped her for a minute. "I just want to warn you before ya'll go in that he's thinner than he was. He don't look the same."

That was to be expected Ruth supposed. Her mother seemed a little more shrunken herself and her face was certainly more lined. After all, it had been almost twenty years since the last time she'd seen them. They all looked older; where had the time gone?

She wasted no more time in heading for the bedroom. She gave a quick knock and her father's voice answered, sounding as strong as ever to her ears, "Come in."

She gasped. Her mother had tried to warn her, but nothing could have prepared her for the frail, sick man in front of her. Her father had always been strapping, bigger than life, and active. Being confined to a bed in the middle of the day had to be hard on him. She did her best to hide her distress with a smile.

Her father had no need to fake a smile when he saw her. "Ruthie! You came!"

"Of course, I came. You needed me." She hugged her father and tried not to wince at the feeling of his sharp bones. "You remember Kid."

"Ain't nothing wrong with my mind." He looked up at Kid. "You been taking care of our girl?"

"Best I know how, sir."

James was satisfied with the answer.

Ruth introduced the children. "This is Mercy, Isaiah, and Gideon. And this is your papaw."

Her 10-year-old daughter gave a shy hello and her eldest son, 6, said nothing at all. It pained her that Mercy and Isaiah were so quiet. That their grandparents were veritable strangers to them.

Gideon made it up for the both of them, however, telling his grandparents all about his adventures on the sea. Ruth struggled not to shake her head in despair at the unpleasant memories. Water made her nervous, and Gideon who had a tendency to want to climb or look over the edge of the ship had frightened her half to death. She'd thought about tying him to the mast more than once. She'd had to rebuke her sin of worry and her son multiple times.

"I do believe the boy talks as much as you do," her mother said with a chuckle when he was finished.

James had listened attentively. "Maybe there's a making of another preacher in the family. You had quite the adventure, Gideon." He didn't forget his other grandchildren and did his best to set them at ease.

"I know all about you," he said to Mercy. "You like to read and write stories. I bet you're going to be a famous author someday."

"Don't go filling her head with nonsense," Mary chastised.

"Why is it nonsense? If our daughter can be a revivalist, I don't see why our granddaughter can't be a writer. They have women writers, you know."

Mary humphed but didn't say more, and James looked at blonde Isaiah. "And you're the one who likes to hear stories of heroes. I've got some you'd like to hear."

"But not right now," Mary interrupted. "You're tired, and I'm sure they're tired, too."

"Don't tell me what I am," James argued. "I'm not too tired for my grandbabies."

"Come on, children. I made a cake," Mary said, unfazed by his argument. "Ya'll look a mite peaked to me."

Ruth had smelled it as they passed the kitchen. If anything would make them warm up, it would be their grandma's famous apple stack cake. The children went willingly.

"That woman's going to keep bossing me till the day I die and into glory," he fussed but his tone and smiling eyes said he really didn't mind.

Kid chuckled. "I know what you mean." He was less subtle with his exit. "I'll give ya'll some time to yourselves."

When the door clicked shut, Ruth jumped into action. "Daddy, you can beat this. If you pray-"

"I ain't one of your lost souls. I never lost the faith. I don't think He's going to heal me from this. There's a feeling you get deep inside yourself when you know the end is near."

"No," she said. She would not accept defeat. There had to be a reason he'd made it until her arrival. She believed God had something in mind besides a final goodbye. "You can't talk like that. You can't believe like that. You don't know what God's got in store."

"And you don't either, Ruthie, but we're wasting time talking about this. I have a favor to ask you," he said with a solemnity that said it was going to be something more than bringing him a glass of water or adjusting his pillows.

"Don't say that, Daddy." Accepting a last request would be paramount to accepting that he was dying, and she refused to do that whatever he said. She had the childish impulse to plug her ears or drown him out with humming if it wouldn't be so disrespectful.

"Listen to me. You remember your Uncle Ebenezer?"

She had vague memories of a laughing, tall man, but he'd gone into seclusion after losing his family to a flu epidemic. "A little bit."

"He's getting up in years himself, and he still hasn't made peace with His Maker."

"What can I do?"

"What you were born to do. Show him the way to Christ. Save his soul."


	3. Chapter 3

Despite her father's claims that he wasn't too tired, his eyes drooped and the least little movement seemed to cause him pain.

He asked too much but rather than tell him that, Ruth kissed his forehead. "You rest. I'll see what can be done."

Peace filled his expression, and he shut his eyes for the sleep he'd been struggling against.

Kid waited for her in the hallway, sipping coffee her mother had given him.

He set it down in the floor and went to her immediately to put his arms around her. "You okay, baby?"

"Fine. It's just hard seeing him like that. He wants me to bring my revival to his brother's house. Ebenezer, his brother, hasn't had much use for God for the last thirty years or so, or for anybody for that matter. He wants to know his brother will follow him to heaven."

"How can he expect you to make sure of that? You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."

"He has confidence in my abilities." Which hadn't always been the case. He'd been very reluctant to give his blessing to her life's calling at the start of her ministry. Now he thought she could move mountains. "God may do this thing. 'The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much'. And I know Daddy's been praying for him for a long time as did my grandma."

"Maybe," he agreed, not sounding as sure.

"And no time like the present to go see him."

Ruth peeked into the kitchen to see how things were faring with her mother and the children. They definitely were enjoying the cake and sending smiles their grandmother's way when she spoke to them. It looked very promising. She wanted them to form a close bond with their grandparents because she had loved her own grandparents so well.

"Momma," Ruth said, "you mind watching the children for a little bit? Kid and I have somewhere we'd like to go. We won't be long, I imagine."

Her mother looked curious but wasn't the type to do a lot of prying. "Don't mind it a bit."

"Thanks. Love you," she said, kissing her cheek. She was beyond happy to be able to say it in person and not in a letter.

"Love you, too," she said, watching them go.

"There a reason you didn't tell your mother where we were going?" Kid asked once they were away from the house.

"Yep, she'd worry."

Now it was Kid's turn to be worried. "Why should she worry? Ruth, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Uncle Ebenezer is more than just a recluse. He defends his isolation violently. No one's seen him face to face for all these years, not even Granny could visit him when she was alive."

"So if a man won't let his own mother through the door, what makes you think our chances are any better?"

"If it's God's will, He'll make a way," she said with more confidence than she felt.

"Which is your way of saying there ain't no plan," he mumbled with annoyance. "Don't reckon I'm going to talk you out of this."

"No," she said, putting an arm around him as they walked in hopes of reassuring him.

Ruth had never see Ebenezer's homestead before, or at least, she had no memory of it. She supposed they'd gone to visit him and his family before his seclusion though.

The cabin looked to be in disrepair, but it was holding up. There were no signs of life on first glance, no chairs for sitting outside, no food hanging from the porch rafters, no clothes draped over the rails to freeze-dry in the cold air, and Ruth wondered if he was even in there until the barrel of a rifle slid out the corner of a partially open window. She couldn't see the man holding it, but there was no doubt it was her uncle. He had a reputation among the people in the area for firing first and asking questions later.

"Remember me, Uncle Ebenezer?" she called out, putting the emphasis on uncle. Surely the man wouldn't shoot his own niece. "Little Ruthie?" She added, giving her childhood nickname in hopes that he would.

Silence met her question, which showed he must have. Perhaps he was even interested in hearing what she had to say. She took it as encouragement anyway. "This is Kid, my husband. We just want to talk."

That was met with an answer. From his rifle anyway. Ruth and Kid practically flew over the hill as the sound of gunfire reverberated through the valley made all the louder by the land's layout.

Kid ran directly behind her, acting as a shield. When at last they couldn't hear the volley of gunfire, they dropped to the ground, panting for breath.

They were able to use a large rock jutting from the earth as a backrest and as protection, in case he'd decided to pursue them, but she was confident he would never venture this far from his house, and she had a feeling he hadn't been aiming to hit them as much as he'd been aiming to scare them away. This was going to be a lot harder than she'd thought if the man wouldn't even hear her out.

"What is it with your family and guns?"


	4. Chapter 4

"The men in my family like their guns." She cast a humorous eye at his gun belt. "I guess that's what attracted me to you."

He snorted. His living by the gun was part of what had almost kept them apart. He was definitely starting to see why she was so anti-gun though. "Well, nobody can say we didn't try."

She didn't answer, and he didn't like that one bit. That meant she was thinking, which meant she was plotting and planning on how to get past Ebenezer's defenses. "You can't reason with a man like that. He don't want to be reasoned with."

"Maybe not, but he ain't happy living like that."

"Maybe some people are. Anyway, you just have to let him be."

"I'll let him be. For now."

"Ruth!"

They argued all the way back to the house. He kept trying to convince her how foolhardy to continue to reach out to a man who fired on sight, and she kept quoting scripture at him. He hated when she did that. It made him feel like he was wrong when he knew he wasn't.

They were loud, and he was embarrassed when her older brother, Robert, stepped out onto the porch of her parents' house, interrupting their rather noisy discussion. "Well, look at what the cat drug in."

Her parents couldn't have gone and told anyone in that short amount of time. "How'd you know we were here?" Ruth asked.

"I could hear you from my house. I always did tell Momma if you ever got lost in the woods, we could just follow the sound of your voice."

He could tell by her puzzled look that she was wondering if she really was that loud or if the mountains really were that echoey as she moved to embrace her brother.

"And you still got Sister Ruth's Revival emblazoned on your wagon canvas," he added. "And you know how neighbors talk."

She laughed and playfully smacked his shoulders. Of course, people had seen the wagon.

Lucy was standing behind him, her sister-in-law, and she hugged her. Kid wouldn't have recognized her; she was so changed from the woman they'd met in Kentucky, plumper and happier.

On their entry, Kid wondered if they wouldn't get pushed right back out. The people in the house had greatly multiplied to claustrophobic proportions. Robert and Lucy's daughter, Sarah, was there. Ruth's younger brother, Clyde, and his wife, and their four children, two girls and two boys that made up two sets of twins. Anna, her younger sister, and her husband, Mark, who had a grand total of six children, five girls and a boy. And last but not least was Laura, Ruth's older sister, and her husband with their three boys.

And Ruth, being Ruth, was determined to hug and talk to every last one. Clyde's hug lifted her off the ground. Mercy, Isaiah, and Gideon hung back and watched, not seeming to know what to do with all these strangers that apparently weren't strangers.

Ruth was particularly thrilled to see Danny, the only niece or nephew who would have remembered her. He had a wife that was plainly expecting.

"My sister is going to be a grandma. My goodness, you're getting old, ain't you?" Ruth teased, looking back at Laura.

"If I'm going to be a grandma, you're going to be a great aunt don't forget," Laura said.

Ruth only laughed as she turned back her attention to Danny. "I don't reckon you catch grasshoppers anymore, do you?"

He chuckled. "Not unless they're eating on my crops, but I remember you were the only one who'd do it with me, Aunt Ruth."

"She never was much one for decorum," kidded Anna, who was next in line.

"And you never did know what fun was," Ruth said, giving her a hug.

The hug between Ruth and Mark was briefer than the rest because of their history but no less warm. Kid was no longer jealous. They'd all gotten the girl they really wanted.

"And you, this couldn't be little Evan," she said to Laura's youngest, patting his cheek with affection though he towered over her. She held her hands in front of her to indicate his former size. "You couldn't be a grown man. I held you in my arms when you weren't but minutes old."

The young man blushed and received a hug.

"Matter of fact, I held all Laura's youngens. Seems like yesterday."

"You never said where you went," Mary commented now that all the greeting was through.

Ruth must've figured she'd hear about it anyway. "To Ebenezer's. Daddy's worried about him."

"What?" It wasn't that she hollered it; it was the way she said the simple word. The house got silent. It always did when Mary McKenzie was on the rampage.

She plowed through the crowd of people, and they all parted for her as neatly as the Red Sea. She opened the door to the bedroom, not caring at the moment whether her husband was sleeping or not.

"James, you sent our daughter right into the line of fire over that fool brother of yours!" That time she yelled.

Kid winced for him. Mary may have had a quieter personality than Ruth but their temper was the same, and he'd been on the receiving end of such a temper before. Quite a number of times, in fact.

"I knew Kid'd go with her," was his defense.

"So they could both get shot? Great thinking."

"Mary, I'm a dying man," James pleaded.

"Yeah, and I'm going to finish you off if you pull something like that again. Tell her not to go back."

Kid and Ruth stood in the doorway, watching with sympathy.

"What'd he say?" James asked rather than doing as Mary asked.

"Not much, but don't give up hope, Daddy. There's still time for the both of you."

Mary threw her hands up in silent surrender, seeing the course was set, but it didn't take her long to cool down surrounded by all her grandchildren, who numbered well into the teens.

It was a joyous evening or as joyous as it could be when such sad circumstances had brought the family together; there was a dark cloud hanging over them that they couldn't quite expel. The children had more cousins to play with than they knew what to do with.

Kid was glad when they went. He relished the peace and quiet of a much emptier house. Ruth was sad though. He hoped she got to spend a lot more time with all her family before the end came.

Kid felt the bed rustle when Ruth got up out of it that night. He peeked an eye open just to a slit to see what she was doing though he had a feeling. And sure enough, she'd gotten out of bed to get down on her knees.

He could even hear her whispered prayers. "Lord, let me feel Uncle Ebenezer's burden. Let me help him carry just a little of the weight."

What was more, the woman was in tears over an uncle she barely remembered, and that's why he loved her. She could irritate him with her doggedness that didn't allow her to consider facts, but he'd never met a woman with a bigger heart.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't unusual for Kid to wake up first. At least, not on the nights she spent praying. He didn't hear any of their brood tromping around the house, so he waited for her. He spent the time polishing his gun.

"There's a sight every woman wants to wake up to, her husband waving his gun around the bedroom."

He laughed and craned down to kiss her good morning.

Despite her joke, she looked melancholy as she sat up, and he asked, "Feeling okay, sweetheart?"

"Not completely. I feel like I got a heart of stone beating in my chest."

He wondered if it was a result of an answer to her prayer or because it was the first morning under her parents' roof and that had to make it hit hard why they were here. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, honey. I'll be alright once I get moving." She leaned over and gave him another kiss before getting up.

While Ruth helped her mother get breakfast ready, Kid decided he'd check on her father. An ear to the door confirmed he was up; he could hear the bed springs creaking. He tapped on the door softly.

"Come in," he called.

"Good morning, sir."

"Little good about it. Can't get comfortable. You still got the consumption that Ruthie wrote about? I heard you coughing some yesterday."

"You just don't lose it. I probably should have been dead by now, but Ruth takes such good care of me. I've outlasted the odds. God's doing, I reckon."

"But you could go at anytime?" James asked, never one for beating around the bush.

"I suppose so."

"That's what worries me about leaving. I know Mary'll still be here, but it was nice to think that if Ruth ever needed to, she and the children could always come back home, and I'd help provide for them. Life ain't easy out there."

"No offense, Mr. McKenzie, but I don't think you know what a strong woman you raised. She could handle her work out west by herself and raise the kids besides. She knows how to rely on God for help."

"Let's hope she don't have to be by herself."

"The future's in God's hands."

"I can tell how long you'uns have been married by how much you sound like each other." He fussed, but he looked relieved to have discussed that particular topic.

"Thank you. Breakfast is about ready."

"Good. I'll try eating a little bit. Tell Mary not too much though. She tends to overload my plate."

He re-laid the instructions though she didn't heed them. Mary took him his morning meal despite the fact that he offered to do it. She took her plate as well, intent on eating with him. She obviously wanted to spend every moment she could with him. He didn't blame her. He'd feel the same way in her place.

Their children were all up. Ruth said the blessing over the mush and biscuits, and the eating got underway.

Ruth was quiet again, but the children filled the silence. It wasn't until they were clearing the table that she said, "If he won't listen to the words we say, maybe he'll listen to the songs we sing."

He didn't have to ask who she meant by he. "You're going to serenade your uncle?"

"I guess so if you want to put it like that."

"Why don't I just bring my guitar, and we can make it a regular ensemble?"

"Now you're talking," she said with a grin though she knew he hadn't meant it to be taken seriously.

Nonetheless, he went for his guitar, and she went to ask her mother about watching the children again.

When he came back out, Mary was out in the living room, looking fit to be tied. "You are your father's daughter. You're both just as pigheaded." She caught sight of him. "You're taking a guitar? That ain't going to be much use when ya'll are running for your lives."

"We ain't going to get in shooting distance just close enough to be heard," Ruth said.

"You're all grown up. I can't tell either one of you what to do, but ya'll are fixing to get yourselves in a heap of trouble. He don't care if you're kin or not; he might put you both in his shooting distance. Then who's going to raise your children?"

"Relax, Momma. We're just going to do a bit of singing is all." She kissed her.

Kid did his best to assuage Mary's fears with a pat to her shoulder and an empathetic look.

Outside, he told Ruth, "Your mother's right, you know. He ain't going to come running out with tears and outstretched arms because of a song."

"No, but music can be healing, and he might actually listen."

They positioned themselves at the rock again. Not too close, and yet not too far away to be heard.

She told him the song she wanted and with his guitar, he mingled his voice with hers in song,

"Come, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish,  
Come to the mercy seat, fervently kneel.  
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;  
Earth has no sorrow that heav'n cannot heal."

In a way he could sympathize. If he lost Ruth and the children so tragically as this man, he wasn't sure how he'd be able to go on. And yet, by God's mercy and grace he could.

"Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,  
Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure!  
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,  
'Earth has no sorrow that heav'n cannot cure.'"

No gunfire. That was encouraging.

"Here see the bread of life, see waters flowing  
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above.  
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing  
Earth has no sorrow but heav'n can remove."

Then came the gunshot. Whether he fired from his cabin again, or whether he'd ventured out to shoot, they didn't wait to find out. True to Mary's prediction, he had to run with his guitar. Ebenezer clearly wasn't a music lover.


	6. Chapter 6

Mary didn't gloat with her words, but she gloated with her expression on their quick return. Though to be fair, a look of relief came first.

"We just have to keep pleading with God for his heart to be saved," Ruth said.

Mary softened just a little. "It'll take God for that fool to be saved."

Kid hid a smile behind a cough. He wondered if Ruth ever realized how much like her mother she sounded sometimes.

Mary excused herself to check on James and bring him his lunch, and Ruth noticed Mercy staring at a drawing hanging on the wall. She put a loving hand on Mercy's shoulder. "Your great aunt Dorcas made that picture of you when we were visiting her in Kentucky. That's where we met your aunt Lucy."

Mercy looked awed by the fact that this grandmother she barely knew loved her enough to hang it.

Mary came back stomping mad. "He refuses to eat. I don't know how that man expects to keep his strength up if he don't eat. You were always close to your father, Ruth. Go see if you can get him to eat anything."

Ruth was happy to comply.

"So she brought in the cavalry, did she?" James said with humor.

Ruth eyed his uneaten stew sitting by the bedside. "You love Momma's rabbit stew. Why ain't you eating it?"

"Just not hungry."

"You worrying over Ebenezer? I promised to take care of it, and I will."

"That's partly it, but this malady is robbing me of my appetite."

She took her father's hands. "We pray for the soul of Uncle Ebenezer. We know he's hurting. Let him remember he can find rest and comfort in You and give You his broken heart. Lord, we beseech You to not only heal my father of this disease but to bring back his hunger that he may be nourished by the bounty You have given us. Let us be thankful for the hands that grew, caught, and prepared it and receive it graciously in Your Son's precious name. Amen."

Her father shook his head. "You should have been born a boy. You could have presided over a mighty fine church."

"The Lord knew what He was doing when He made me a girl. You feel hungry, yet?"

"You know I do feel a little hungry. And if it'll get you to quit yapping." She knew he teased by the smile.

She sat in the chair that was in the room while he ate. He finished the bowl, but when he went to drink his water, he about dropped the cup. Ruth jumped to the rescue, keeping it from spilling and holding it for him, trying not to let her concern show.

He took a couple sips and then said, "Quit fussing over an old man. Set it down over there."

She did, knowing how embarrassing it had to be to have his daughter holding his cup though she wished he'd drink more. "You're not an old man, you're my father, and I like fussing over you."

He smiled at her. "I'm sure glad I got to see you again before I die."

"You're not going to die," she insisted.

She didn't like that he didn't want to argue. He closed his eyes, having gotten worn out from the simple task of eating, and she felt tears sting her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "I'll read to you."

She opened her Bible to James, knowing just the verse she wanted. "Is any among you afflicted? let him pray. Is any merry? let him sing psalms. Is any sick among you? let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord: And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up; and if he have committed sins, they shall be forgiven him."

His soft snores proved he'd already fallen asleep. That's what they needed to do. They needed to bring the elders in and pray together.

She went to tell her mother her God-inspired idea and found her visiting with Mark and Anna. They'd brought their children to play with Mercy, Isaiah, and Gideon. She was glad for the children had sensed the heaviness in the house and needed a distraction, and it was always a blessing when they had other children to play with.

"I was just telling Momma about the Scotch-Irish family that just moved into the old cabin," Anna said, bringing Ruth up to date with the conversation. "The whole family's come down with typhoid. They can't even get up out of bed."

"Is anybody taking care of them?" Ruth asked.

"Aunt Bonnie brought them herbs and remedies for the fever, but you just have to let it run its course, I think, and hope and pray for the best."

"No," Kid said, already seeing where this conversation was going.

"Aunt Bonnie stays too busy to give them the kind of help they need with all her midwifing duties," Ruth said. "They ain't going to be able to take care of themselves, and who knows, but that their faith might restore them."

"No," Mary said, joining in with Kid. "Ruth, think about your children," she said, reusing her earlier argument for avoiding Ebenezer. "You could die from typhoid. Or you could drag it back to them. Or your sick father. Is that what you want?"

"No, I won't come back until they're safely past it. Not every one dies from typhoid, but it could sweep through and get us all. We could have another epidemic like took out Uncle Ebenezer's family and none of us would be safe. And think about if it was our house and we were all down with it? Wouldn't you want someone to come along and take care of your grandbabies?"

It wasn't a fair question because the answer was yes. "Why does it always have to be you?" she asked.

"Because if not me then who?" She got up to gather her things before she said her goodbyes.

Mary looked at Kid in desperation. "You going to sit there and let her go?"

"Telling Ruth about sick people and expecting her not to go help is like putting a bone in front of a dog and expecting it not to take it. She'll want reports of her father, and you'll want reports from her, so I'll act as a go-between." Kid wanted to do more, to talk her out of it, but he'd been down this road many times before. He'd learned all he could do was just to trust and pray and support his wife.


	7. Chapter 7

Ruth didn't neglect to tell her mother about the idea for healing she had before she left. She tried not to let her spirits sink when Mary told her the minister and elders had already been by to pray the prayer of faith.

"Well, God's timing is not our timing," Ruth said.

Kid didn't miss her hesitation as she saddled one of their horses in the barn. "If you changed your mind, I can go. I know you'll want to spend every moment you can with your father."

"No, the last thing you need is to catch typhoid on top of consumption. Daddy's going to be alright."

"I'll take good care of him while you're gone," he said, giving her a kiss and rubbing her back comfortingly. "And don't worry about the kids. They're having a grand time with all these new relatives. Gideon asked to go visit his cousins. Mercy's following your mother around like a puppy dog. Even Isaiah's opening up with some smiles."

"I won't," she said, giving him one more kiss before swinging up on the horse.

"I'll see you some time tomorrow to find out how it's going," he said.

He stood at the barn, waving at her until he disappeared out of sight.

The Kirkpatricks lived a ways out. Ruth wondered what she'd find at the house. Typhoid could be really bad, depending on what stage you were in.

She knocked, but she let herself in, figuring they weren't fit to come to the door. "Hello, my name's Sister Ruth," she called out from the doorway.

The family consisted of two parents and two children with varying shades of red hair. The number seemed manageable. The boy, who was shirtless at the moment and standing in the middle of the room, had rose colored spots on his stomach to match his rose-colored hair. His legs were shaking like they could barely hold him.

"Who are you?" the father asked. He was covered up in bed beside his wife.

"A friend. I heard ya'll were fighting sickness, and I wanted to come help."

"Bless you," the mother said, mustering a smile though her skin was soaked in sweat.

They spoke with a hint of Irish brogue though according to Anna, they'd come down from Pennsylvania. Their ancestors were Scottish Protestants, who'd settled in Ireland before settling in America, hence the term Scots-Irish or Scotch-Irish. They were in good company in this area. The mountains were full of such ancestry. Ruth's mother's side had some Scots-Irish.

"I'm so thirsty," said the young girl, who was standing up by her beside. "Bubba is going to get me water."

She wanted to scoop up the poor, little thing, who was no older than Gideon, and hug her, but instead, she bent down to her level. "That's what I'm here for, honey. Lay down and wait."

The brother had a small bed, and his sister had a trundle bed that could be tucked up under his during the day. She went back and helped the boy, who was only a couple years older than the girl, back to his bed, supporting his underarms. Then she brought them both water.

She took the family's heaviest blankets, having learned that however cold the people thought they were, the blanket did them no favors. She also opened the windows, thankful they were still in winter months. The cold air would help them as well as anything.

Though both parents looked at her askance for opening the windows and taking their blankets, they were too weary to argue with her methods.

By the end of the day, she was exhausted. The family kept getting up out of bed despite the fact that they were in no condition for it and though she was waiting on them hand and foot. They were libel to hurt themselves, and they needed to be rested if they were going to beat this thing. She knew it was a part of the typhoid, but that didn't make it any easier.

Better than any medicine, she prayed for and with them to be well though they hardly seemed to know what she was saying, they were so out of it. They seemed like such sweet people. It was a shame sickness was visiting them this way.

sss

Kid was happy he was going to be able to report again that her father was still the same though he'd be happier if he could tell her that he was better. It'd hurt her if he took a turn for the worse while she was away, so he prayed he wouldn't.

He saddled up Horse, who seemed glad for all the exercise he was getting. He'd been cooped up too many months on the boat, but there'd been no help for it.

He remembered a jaunty little tune he'd learned the last time they'd visited and sang it as he rode.  
"A froggy went a-courtin'  
And he did ride, aha,  
A froggy went a-courtin'  
And he did ride, aha,  
A frog went a-courtin'  
And he did ride,  
Sword and pistol by his side,  
Aha, Aha, Aha."

He only lacked the sword. He felt a little like he was courting his wife, having been back and forth for visits and updates for three days now and no personal contact with her.

As the cabin came into view he sang loudly for her benefit,  
"He rode up to Miss Mousie's door, aha,  
He rode up to Miss Mousie's door, aha,  
He rode up to Miss Mousie's door,  
Where he'd often been before,  
Aha, Aha, Aha."

Stopping in front of their agreed upon window, he sang,  
"He said, 'Miss Mouse, are you within?' aha,  
He said, 'Miss Mouse, are you within?' aha,  
He said, 'Miss Mouse, are you within?'"

"Yes, kind sir, I sit and spin," she sang back, opening the shutters and taking the part of Miss Mousie. "Aha, Aha Aha."

Seeing how much she was enjoying it, he sang the next verse, too.  
"He took Miss Mouse upon his knee, aha,  
He took Miss Mouse upon his knee, aha,  
He took Miss Mouse upon his knee  
Said 'Miss Mouse, will you marry me?'  
Aha, aha aha."

"I think you're a little late in the asking." She was laughing. "Thanks. I needed something silly to cheer me up. How's Daddy?"

"The same, but he's worried about you. We all are."

"They're about through the worst of it, I think. Probably be another week though, and then I can come home."

"You still feeling fine?"

"Better than fine," she promised though he couldn't help notice the little cough she gave after she said it.

"Why did you just cough?"

"Everybody coughs sometimes. It's nothing. I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart," she said, shutting the shutters again.

Though she was keeping their interaction brief, so as not to pass on anything, he was also afraid she was keeping it short to keep him from finding out she was coming down with the sickness.


	8. Chapter 8

Mercy was a little frightened of her grandfather. She'd never met someone who was about to die before, at least not outside her mother's revivals.

Her father urged her to spend time with him though she would have preferred staying with her grandmother. She was about to beg off, but she'd never seen her father look so sternly at her, so she knocked on his door.

"Hey, pumpkin. You come to keep your granddaddy company?" he asked.

He seemed jolly for a person that was dying. She sat on the chair in the room after giving a nod.

"You're a pretty little girl. You have my mother's eyes." Mercy didn't know what to say. She'd never been very good at making conversation. Another reason she hadn't wanted to come in here.

If he sensed her discomfort, he didn't say so. Instead, he leaned towards her a little bit. "You want to play a trick on your grandma?" he asked, whispering conspiratorially.

The smile he gave said it would be something funny and not mean, so she nodded again and scooted just a little bit closer.

"Change out the salt and sugar in the kitchen when she ain't looking. As a matter of fact, tell her I need her help for a minute."

She did as he asked right down to the switching of the ingredients. They just had to wait. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long as her grandmother was quite the baker. She watched her load the dough with salt and put just a hint of sugar. She baked them up without realizing a thing, but like a true cook would, she tasted a cookie first after they'd cooled to make sure they were fit for consumption.

She knew the mastermind behind it just as soon as she'd bit into them. She spit the bite out into her hand and stormed to his room. "James! I don't know how you did it, but you're going to eat every last one of them molasses cookies yourself."

Mercy had followed to see how it would unfold. He was laughing. Mercy laughed with him because it was plain to see from the grin that came to her grandmother's face that she found it funny, too.

"That's okay with me," he said. "You ain't never fixed nothing that I couldn't sink my teeth into."

She humphed and spun out of the room at the compliment, but it was easy to see she was secretly pleased.

sss

In the spare time Ruth had, which wasn't often between the nursing and the praying, she tried to think of ways she could help bring her uncle to Christ for his sake and her father's sake. He wouldn't listen to anything said or sung. The only thing she could think of that they hadn't tried was writing to him, but that begged the question of how a letter could be delivered without being shot.

Perhaps, they could fly it to him. One of her nephews was probably adept at making paper darts; boys usually were, but the flight path wasn't very controllable. Maybe she could find someone who was handy with a bow and arrow. She rubbed her temples. Her head hurt from trying to figure it out.

She'd had Kid bring her paper on one of his trips, and she had slowly put together a letter. She could decide how to get it to him later. She kept it folded in her pocket in the meantime.

Mrs. Kirkpatrick was mumbling in her sleep about her children. Ruth wasn't sure what she was saying about them as she could only make out certain words, but she could imagine what she'd be saying in this woman's place.

She didn't know if Mrs. Kirkpatrick could hear her, but she tried to comfort her as she held a wet cloth to her forehead. "Your babies are alright. Their momma needs to focus on getting some rest, so she can go back to taking care of them."

Her struggling eased, so she must have been able to hear her or she had finally fallen asleep. She hoped that meant her fever was coming down. It was a constant fight to keep all their fevers down.

Mr. Kirkpatrick had been asleep all morning. His breathing was constant and steady. He probably could have done with some of the broth she'd fixed up, using the marrow of a goat bone, but anytime they were sleeping, she hated waking them up as she knew sleep was beneficial to them getting better.

She went over to Owen and Jane. She'd been with the family a week and a half, and she'd grown quite fond of the children.

Owen was awake and looking miserable. "I feel awful."

"You want me to tell you a story?"

He shook his head.

"You want me to sing to you?"

He shook his head again.

She brought him a fresh cloth that she had dipped in melted snow. She'd found a patch in the shade of the cabin and was making great use of it.

She stood up and opened the window above the childrens' beds a little wider. When she'd first gotten there, the frigid air had kept her bundled up, but she'd gotten used to the cold. In fact, standing in front of the window even felt nice.

Owen seemed eased by the fresh batch of coldness and shut his eyes, but Jane shook harder than she had been. She heard the child's teeth clicking together, and she had to fight with herself to not cover her or shut the window above her.

She got down on the floor, so she could be next to the girl's trundle bed. It was Jane she worried about most of all. Her coughing sounded like she had something in her lungs like Kid's coughs did at times but worse. Sometimes she actually produced a rusty-colored mucus. Sometimes she threw up. She was getting pitifully thin though Ruth did her best to keep food down her.

She brought her onto her lap and held her as if she were one of her own. The sweet child seemed grateful and put her arms around her. Jane never complained though she had to be suffering. If any child could be angelic, this little girl came close.

She had given her steam and onion treatments and everything she knew how to ease her breathing, treatments she sometimes gave Kid when he needed it, but her breathing only seemed to be getting worse. She wasn't taking good breaths.

Ruth listened to the fast, shallow breathing with an aching heart until the breaths at last stopped. Tears fell as she put the child back onto the bed as gently as if she were still alive.

It was hard to watch a child die, harder to understand the reason for it. She comforted herself, knowing how much of life's evils she would be spared now that she rested among the saints and angels.

 _Lord God, let her family find joy in their grief, knowing she is at home with You._


	9. Chapter 9

Sister Ruth knew how to preserve a body and did so before hiding Jane in the back of the cabin. It would have been terrible if her brother were to discover her before it could be explained to him.

Owen's fever broke the following day, and Ruth praised God the Kirkpatricks wouldn't lose both their children. Nonetheless, telling the Kirkpatricks their daughter was gone would be one of the hardest things she'd ever done.

"Where's Jane?" was the first question Owen asked.

"Resting," she said, trying not to choke up and worry him. She knew his parents would want to be the ones to explain her death to him.

Mr. and Mrs. Kirkpatricks' fevers broke the day after Owen's had only hours apart and though she hated to tell them when they'd just came to, there was never going to be a perfect time.

"Jane didn't make it," her voice shaking from restrained emotion. "She's safe in the arms of Jesus now."

Mrs. Kirkpatrick broke out into uncontrollable sobs and her husband wrapped his arms around her and tried hard to be strong for her and not cry himself.

He looked up at Ruth. "Thank you for doing everything you could. We'll never be able to repay you."

She had wondered if they would blame her for it, but they were thankful instead. "I'm sorry there wasn't more I could do."

Owen didn't fully grasp that his sister wasn't coming back by his look of confusion, but he knew something was wrong. He climbed into his parents bed. "It's going to be okay, Ma."

Ruth went outside, taking only her shawl, to give them time to grieve in private. Kid had been delayed in coming due to a March snowstorm, probably the last of the season or close to it. The aftermath had been big enough to delay his coming yet another day, so she wasn't surprised to see him arrive earlier than his normal time.

"Why are you standing out here in the cold?" Kid asked as he rode up.

Her tears flowed freely. "The little girl, Jane, died."

"Oh, honey," he said, getting down from Horse to comfort her.

She held out a hand to stop him from coming nearer. "I think we're probably safe, but I want to give it another day to be sure."

It made him angry with the situation, not with her, and he took his hat off to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I think they'll probably want to have the funeral tomorrow, being they ain't got any kin in the area. I'll check and see what their plans are."

Kid waited until she returned, which didn't take long. "Tomorrow. They want to bury her on the hilltop out back. Can you get the preacher to say something at the service and my brothers to help dig? Mr. Kirkpatrick won't be up to such a strenuous task so soon after his fever."

sss

Kid got there first. He didn't wait for her permission to draw her into his arms and kiss her. "You don't know how happy I am you get to come home today. Your parents are, too. They've been worrying themselves sick."

"I know. I've missed you," she said, rubbing an end piece of his coal black hair between her fingers while her arms were wrapped around his neck.

Robert and Clyde arrived a littler after Kid, and between the three men taking turns, they had a grave dug in about two hours.

The preacher was the last one to get there just a little before noon. The family came out. The parents each had a McKenzie man supporting their standing and walking, and Kid carried Owen in his arms.

Ruth felt even sadder, looking at the grieving parents. She felt their pain, having buried a child herself. And because she knew that pain, she also knew nothing she could say could erase their present grief, only God and time. She promised herself she would check in on them periodically to see if there was anything they needed.

The preacher said words that had probably been said at gravesides since they had first been penned on a scroll, but Ruth drew comfort hearing the God-breathed words each time they were spoken. She hoped the family did, too.

Ruth ended the service with a song not terribly old, but it had words that were extremely poignant.

"Then, with my waking thoughts bright with Thy praise,  
Out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise;  
So by my woes to be nearer, my God, to Thee."

Kid had slipped a hand in hers and joined her in the song, the only other attendee who knew the hymn's lyrics.

"Or, if on joyful wing cleaving the sky,  
Sun, moon, and stars forgot, upward I'll fly,  
Still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee."

Owen got down from Kid's arms to go stand between his parents as the song had brought them both to tears.

"There in my Father's home, safe and at rest,  
There in my Savior's love, perfectly blest;  
Age after age to be nearer, my God, to Thee."

The preacher offered up one last prayer over the proceeding, and then the service ended.

Kid had his arm around her, and she leaned into him as suddenly the unlevel ground felt a lot more unlevel.

"Ruth, are you alright?" She could hear the note of panic in his voice.

She wanted to answer yes, but it was like he was talking at the end of a long tunnel. Her vision suddenly turned white like another snowstorm had descended. She finally admitted to herself that she had caught typhoid as she felt Kid's hold tighten, and she slipped into unconsciousness.


	10. Chapter 10

Ruth wasn't eating. And Kid had a feeling she'd had a decreased appetite for a while because she'd felt lighter than usual when he'd picked her up after her fainting spell.

Her brothers had stayed to finish the burial though they were more than a little concerned. They'd be even more concerned if they could see her now.

He held a spoon up with broth on it. "Ruth, please eat. Do it for me. Just a bite."

She took the bite, but then the little bit that had made it into her mouth dribbled down her chin.

She suddenly seemed aware of the situation. Her clarity came and went since she'd fallen ill. "You shouldn't be in here. You'll get sick. Get out."

"Ruth, I let you boss me around on a lot of things because I love you the way you are, and most of the time, you're right, but there's nothing you can say to make me change my mind about this. I am going to take care of you." He put his lips to her forehead and tried not to wince at the way her skin burned his lips.

She was too exhausted to argue back as she closed her eyes and that worried him more than anything. Her fight's what she had going for her. What if she didn't fight her typhoid?

"I want to see Momma!" Gideon called through the door. He jiggled the handle, but the door had been locked for exactly that reason.

His son was breaking his heart. "I wish you could, buddy. I really do."

His heart was broken completely when Gideon started to cry. That drew Mary who comforted him and talked him into finding his sister and playing with her. She told him his mother needed to sleep to get better.

Gideon agreed to let her nap and left the door. Ruth hadn't even stirred during all the hullabaloo, but she hadn't slept at all last night, so he wasn't too surprised.

"Sorry about that," Mary apologized. "I've tried explaining it to him."

"I wish someone would explain it to me. She did a good and selfless thing. Why would God let her get sick like this?"

"His ways are not our ways," she answered though it sounded like she was having a hard time believing it herself. "How is she?"

He couldn't lie to her. "She's not eating or drinking, and she's burning up. She can't go on much longer like this."

"I have to see my baby," she said, downright distraught at the news.

It had to be killing her. A parent himself he knew how hard this was on her, and she was already dealing with a sick, dying spouse. "You know that wouldn't be good for James, and you have to stay healthy for him. I'd let you know if things got worse, but they're going to get better." He had no proof to offer up. "They have to."

"I'm going to get my sister-in-law, Bonnie. She'll know what to give her or do for her."

He was relieved. He was no doctor. He wasn't even a healer. He was just a husband, who was doing his best to nurse his wife back to health, and he was failing.

Mary wasted no time. Bonnie was there in less than an hour.

"I can't get her to eat," he said as soon as she came through the door.

"That's common with typhoid fever. Just keep trying to feed her as often as you can." Bonnie picked up her arm felt her pulse. He didn't like the way she softly clicked her tongue.

"What's wrong?"

"Her heartbeat. It's very faint."

His heart felt as if it had stopped in his chest as he asked the question he feared the answer to. "Is she going to live?"

"I don't know. I gave the Kirkpatricks the last of my medicinal brandy. She'd have a better shot with it. It's good for a lot of ailments but especially typhoid. It'd keep her from wasting away until she's well enough to eat, and it'd get her heart pumping good again. It'd also ensure she stayed well-rested."

He had never wanted alcohol so much in his life before and that was saying something. "That sounds like just what she needs."

"Problem is of the men around here that do a little drinking what they drink is moonshine. Stuff they've brewed up in the mountains when the wife or mother ain't looking. And knowing Ruth, if she knew what she was drinking, she probably wouldn't drink."

"Oh, I'll see that she drinks." If he had to hold her nose and pour it down her, he would. "I'll go anywhere I have to go to get it. Where can I find brandy around here?"

"Only one man I know who loves his brandy enough to travel out of the mountains to get it."

"Who?"

"My brother, Ebenezer McKenzie."


	11. Chapter 11

Bonnie gave Kid other tips that were very general and most he already knew. He could tell from the way she acted that she thought there was nothing that could be done for Ruth by them, but Kid was going to get a hold of brandy for Ruth's health if it was the last thing he ever did. And having to break into her crazy uncle's house to get it, it very well might be.

He didn't want to leave her. Just this morning, Ruth had vomited the little that was on her stomach, and he'd had to change her into a fresh linen chemise. He couldn't stand the idea of her laying in filth until he got back, and any number of other things could go wrong.

"Can you stay with her since you've already been around it?"

"Of course I can. The typhoid don't seem to be spreading too much though. Ruth's the only other one that's caught it. Sometimes I wonder if that germ theory thing is right. Where are you going?"

"To get brandy."

She shook her head in warning. "You'll get shot. "

He'd heard that before. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"Listen, he's my brother, and I love him, but even I wouldn't dare go anywhere near his cabin, much less in it, but I admire your love for her, and I'll be praying for you."

Bonnie lovingly wiped Ruth's long hair away from her sweaty face. He'd taken her bun out, so she could lay comfortably. He probably should have loosely tied it back, in case she got sick again. As she made a move to do just that, he knew he was leaving her in good hands.

He crawled out the window, to avoid spreading the disease as much as he could, and soon he stood in front of the cabin. He had no doubt that he could win if it came down to a shootout. He hadn't gained the title fastest draw in the west for nothing, but he didn't want to shoot Ruth's kin, even one that was cut off from the family. The problem was except for the once a year trip Ebenezer took for supplies, including brandy, he never left his self-induced solitary confinement.

He had to distract him, send him running out of his cabin. Ruth still carried a gravel flipper with her sometimes as she refused to carry a gun for self-protection. He wasn't as handy with it as her, but he was proficient enough. He'd brought it with him, and he chose a big rock and launched it as far as he could into a bush on the other side of the house. It was far enough away to draw Ebenezer outside to investigate, but it didn't give him much time.

Kid ran into the house as if a hellhound were nipping at his heels, but he couldn't move quickly once inside. It was more cluttered in there than he expected for a hermit's abode to be. The floor was littered with empty brandy bottles as if he were collecting them.

He scanned around the room for a full one, or at least a partially full one. His hand had no sooner slipped around the neck of the bottle than he was suddenly being hurled to the ground with brute force.

"Why are you trespassing?" His voice was rusty with disuse, but it didn't disguise the pure, raw anger there. He had him pinned down to the floor.

He'd heard it said that someone had "crazy" or "wild" eyes, but never had he seen it more accurately displayed than in this man above him. Whether his grief had driven him mad or whether all these years alone had, he had no doubt he would kill him for something as small as stealing a bottle of brandy.

"My wife, your niece, lays on the point of death. If she doesn't get brandy, she's going to die."

He had become so paranoid from living alone, he didn't trust a word he said. He had suspicion written all over his face. "Why break in here to get it?"

"Because you're the only one that has any; your sister is out. Another epidemic has come." Surely that would rouse some compassion out of him, but he kept his hardened look.

"Please, if you won't do it for her or me, think about our children. Do you want them to lose their mother because you couldn't spare her a little of your brandy? I'll replace it just as soon as she's on the mend, and I can travel."

"No one helped me when my family lay dying why should I help you?"

"More than half the valley was sick from what I hear with no treatment at anyone's disposal but waiting and prayer. You weren't the only one who lost loved ones during that time, but you still had people that love you. Your own brother, who is also dying I might add, can't die in peace until he knows you've been reconciled to God and man."

He said nothing but his grip on him had lessened.

Kid got ready to break free, in case his argument didn't work. "For heaven's sake, do it for your family's memory if nothing else. What would they want you to do?"

Ebenezer let go, and Kid rolled up off the floor with his hand ready by his holster as he awaited his response, but it was unnecessary. Kid was flooded with a sense of relief as the older man offered up the brandy.


	12. Chapter 12

As surprised as Kid was that Ebenezer gave him the brandy, he was even more surprised when he wordlessly began to follow him back.

They split up at the house. Kid went to deliver the treatment to Ruth through the window of her room, while Ebenezer went to see James using a more traditional means.

Mary could have been knocked over with a feather seeing the brother-in-law she hadn't seen in years standing at the door. She didn't know what to say. She moved to let him in, and he went towards his brother's room as if he had just been over there yesterday.

"Eb," James said with great emotion. He might have been the one least surprised and the most overjoyed.

"And people say I'm the strange bird, but you're there laying on your deathbed, smiling. What kind of sense is that?"

"You know why I'm smiling. It's the same reason you used to smile. I know where I'm going when I die."

"I'm not sure I want to go anymore. What kind of God sits up in the heavens and decides who to take and who to leave? It's cruel what He did to me, taking my family away. I can't let go of the past."

"Emmeline and your boys are not in the past, they're in the future."

The words startled him. He'd never heard it said that way before.

"It may not seem like it some days, but years pass by in the blink of an eye. This life wasn't meant to be wasted, living alone. It was meant to be used to the glory of God."

The words cut him to the quick, but more than that he could see how many years really had passed in the lines of his brother's face. It was a wake-up call. Tears fell down his face, tears he had long denied himself. He wanted to see Emmaline and his two sons again, and he wanted to be right with God again. "Pray for me."

"More prayers have gone up on your behalf than you'll ever know."

sss

"What is it?" Ruth asked.

Kid hadn't dared leave it in the bottle. He'd pulled out a few drinks into a small cup and gave it to her at various intervals. "Medicine."

She took one drink before making a face. "It's sweet, but it tastes awful, and my mouth and stomach are burning,"

"Good, it means it's working." It was her third time drinking the stuff, but the first time she had her presence of mind while drinking it. He was already seeing a difference. She had more color in her cheeks.

She sniffed it and recognized the smell. "Kid Cole, if you are liquoring me up, I swear I'm going to knock you into kingdom come."

He couldn't help smiling. He was happy to see her getting her dander up. It meant the brandy was working. He kissed the top of her head. "Now why would I want to liquor you up? I already got you into my bed."

"Kid!" she chastised. He loved the way he could still make her flush. Thankfully, the teasing had gotten her mind off the brandy, and she finished the cup. "Yuck. Do you have water to wash it down?"

"Sure do," he said passing her the cup. "Got a little soup, too."

She only ate a little. She mostly drank, but she had eaten. He was full of hope for the first time since Ruth had gotten sick, and he didn't forget to thank God for His goodness.

sss

Ruth continued to improve and eventually figured out he had been giving her brandy. She refused to drink any more and gave him a lecture about the dangers of alcohol from the Bible. He didn't mind he'd been found out because by then she had moved to solid foods and was sitting up in bed for short stints, so she probably didn't need it. He listened to her recite verses on the evils of drinking and agreed with her though he would have had her drinking again if he'd had to. It could have played a part in what saved her life.

She was doing so well healthwise, Bonnie announced she could receive visitors without worry of spreading the sickness though she still needed some time in bed to recover fully.

One of her first visitors was Ebenezer. "Uncle Ebenezer! I see it, but I don't believe it. What convinced you to finally leave your cabin?"

"You did, I guess, in a roundabout way. Your husband was willing to risk his life to see you better, and I wanted to see if he was telling me the truth about James and then I just wanted to see my brother. Sorry about shooting at you like I did. I was trying to drive you away; I wouldn't have actually shot you."

Her lips curved in delight and humor. "You don't seem nearly as scary close up."

"Maybe because I've decided to rededicate my life to Christ. I carved the biggest cross you ever saw and planted it at my family's graves. The whole valley can see it probably. I hope it'll remind people that God saves people like me, people that have lost everything and completely given up."

"You've raised your Ebenezer," Ruth said. She was still feeling too bad to sing the words of the beautiful hymn, but she could hear that line of the song playing in her head.

The name, Ebenezer, referred to the stone the Israelites had placed as a monument. They'd fallen away from God and suffered trouble and sadness, but then they repented and recommitted themselves to the Lord. God forgave them, and the Ebenezer stone reminded them of their fresh beginning thanks to the mercy of God.

"You're right. It's almost like Ma was a prophetess as if she knew I'd wander away but come back. I wish I had talked to her before she died. Told her I loved her."

"I kind of believe she knows and is rejoicing with the angels as we speak. And you'll get the chance to tell her one day." It felt as if a rock settled in the pit of her stomach as another thought crossed her mind. Her father's dying wish had just been granted.


	13. Chapter 13

Ruth was well enough to come out of her room, and the first thing she wanted to do was see her father.

"Baby, there's something I have to tell you," Kid said as he walked with her. She was still on the weak side and needed his physical support. "Your father's condition has only gotten worse since you've been sick."

She heard him, but she didn't want to believe it.

It was obvious, however, that Kid had understated it if anything. She couldn't miss her father's blue nails and his irregular breathing. He looked so miserable as if just being alive hurt, but he smiled when he saw her. "I knew you'd get better, Ruthie."

"So will you," she adamantly maintained as Kid helped her sit. "What can I do for you, Daddy?"

"Nothing. You're a good daughter. Always have been, and I'm overjoyed I've gotten to see what a good mother you are, too."

She tried not to cry. His words sounded too much like goodbye. "I want to do something for you."

"You already have. Just read to me."

She started to read a passage from the Bible she'd read the other night, but he interrupted her. "No, no. Read to me about heaven."

She swallowed hard. She couldn't remember when she'd ever had such a hard time reading from the Bible or when such a joyous passage had ever sunk her spirits so low, but she did because she could see how much he wanted to hear it.

Bonnie came to check on them. She told Ruth how pleased she was to see her up out of bed and how good she looked. She had almost nothing to say to James about his health, and the difference was pronounced.

"The whole family needs to come," she said quietly and tearfully to Kid and Ruth in the corner of the room.

She rebelled at the news though a part of her knew the truth in them.

sss

While the family gathered, James slipped into a deep sleep he couldn't be roused from, but Ruth knew he still lived by the rising and falling of his chest. How so many family members managed to cram themselves into so small a room, she would never know.

His wife of nearly fifty years held his hand. "We're all here, James. Me, Robert, Laura, Ruth, Clyde, and Anna. All the grandchildren. We love you." She spoke as if he was listening and maybe he was.

At times, the only thing that could be heard was the ticking of a clock as they waited for the grim hand of death.

Ruth's oldest and youngest clung to her skirt, each held onto a piece of it. Mercy, blessed with a sensitive heart, cried at losing the grandfather she'd just come to know. Gideon cried because he saw his sister crying. Isaiah just remained stone silent, standing close to his father, but the way he held himself showed how awkward and sad he felt in the gathering to the eyes that knew him best.

The typhoid had made her so tired. If her father was even half so tired... _"Your will be done, Lord."_

She focused on a spot above the bed for a moment before looking once more at her father. He was ready. His body was giving out; his soul wanted to move on. Yet, he was hanging on. Were her prayers keeping him here?

" _I praise you, God_." Even in the hard times, He was here. He understood, He comforted, and He knew what was for the best. " _Take Daddy home, Father._ " Those were perhaps the four hardest words she'd ever prayed, but she wasn't praying for her anymore, her selfish desire to keep him here even while he suffered, she was praying for him and what he desired.

She made her way to the bed and took his other hand. In his ear, she whispered with tears running down her face, "I love you, Daddy. I'm not going to say goodbye because I know I'll see and talk to you again, but you don't have to hold on for me," she saw Ebenezer in the corner, "for any of us, anymore."

As if he'd been waiting for her permission, he took his last breath and departed this life for the next.


	14. Chapter 14

Kid wasn't the only one wearing black today. Ruth sat among a sea of black in the church she'd grown up in. The pews were full of mourners as her father had been well-loved among family and friends alike.

She'd barely heard anything as they'd sung hymns together and listened to a sermon. She'd tried listening extra hard as the pastor talked about his life. They were so few words to sum up the man he'd been.

A look at her mother showed she was holding up well. She was so brave. Robert and Laura sat on either side of her, holding her hand. Kid held hers. Ruth didn't know what she'd do without him by her side. The day would have been a lot harder that was for certain.

"Let us pray," the pastor said, and they all bowed their heads and closed their eyes. "God of us all, your love never ends. When all else fails, you still are God. We pray to you for one another in our need and for all, anywhere, who mourn with us this day. To those who doubt, give light; To those who are weak, strength. Keep true in us the love with which we hold one another. In all our ways we trust you."

Going to the family cemetery was harder in some ways than the funeral. It became more and more final.

She thought about little Jane who'd only been buried a couple weeks before. Death came for the old and young alike. It was one of the few sure things in life. Bodies would return to the earth from which it was created and souls would return to God who gave it. And that's why she wouldn't do anything other than what she was doing. Healing bodies, yes, but even more importantly making sure their souls were prepared for eternity.

The phrase "dust to dust and ashes to ashes" jumped out at her. And she once again focused on the words in the service she'd heard many times before but had never been said for her father.

"Almighty God, into your hands, we commend your son, James McKenzie, in sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. This body we commit to the ground."

The preacher poured the first handful of dirt over the lowered coffin, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. Yes, says the Spirit, they will rest from their labors for their deeds follow them."

He had earned his rest, and he was blessed. There was no doubt about that. She leaned into Kid as his arm went around her waist in comfort.

"Lord, we thank you for those we love but see no more. Receive into your arms your servant, James McKenzie, and grant that increasing in knowledge and love of You, he may go from strength to strength in service to your heavenly kingdom, through Jesus Christ our Lord."

The Lord's prayer was said by them all and then when a benediction was given, they were all free to leave.

Her vision blurred as her eyes focused on one of the newly sprung flowers that had been picked for the funeral blowing across the graveyard on their departure. It was a sign of hope from the Creator. Flowers died just before winter, but they always came back.

They stayed a couple weeks more to comfort her mother. Kid had insisted, knowing Ruth too needed this time to grieve with her family and to share in the sorrow and remember the good times together.

"You have to take something to remember him," her mother insisted when the time finally came for them to go.

Ruth didn't know what to take, but as she glanced around the room, she alighted on a short, fat white pitcher with a green rim. She could still see him in her mind's eye, shaving at the pitcher with a handheld mirror.

They'd had so many conversations at that pitcher and bowl about God, politics, and just life.

Her mother seemed to know that's what she'd pick and started wrapping it for her before she could even say anything.

She probably wouldn't be back for her mother's funeral, which she hoped was many years in the future. It took too long to get here and folks didn't always have as much warning as her father had been given.

But whether she saw her family again in this life or not, one day they would be joined together in an unbroken family circle around the throne of the Lamb, singing His praises and rejoicing in the company.

 _Real Universe_

Sister Ruth smiled as she watched Kid Cole walk away from her down the wooden sidewalk before turning pensive.

All he'd done was save her from some rough handling by the saloon keeper, but he'd set her heart beating erratically with his kind action and his touch had lit a fire in her.

Was he the answer to her prayer for a helpmeet? He'd said it plain he wasn't coming to her revival when she'd invited him. She didn't know the history or relationship He had with the Lord, but she'd been in the business long enough to know he was running from Him.

She hugged the Bible against her chest. She was a firm believer that nothing happened without reason. This spark between them meant something, and even if nothing romantic ever came of it, she was going to lead this hurting man to the Lord.

But she had a feeling that God had great plans for them, and that those plans would lead them together. And she had no doubt that all the waiting she had done for a husband was going to be completely worth it.

The End


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